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The Town-Ho’s Story

           Itwasgivenhim—neithertwinenorlanyardwereseenagain;butthenextnightanironball,closelynetted,partlyrolledfromthepocketoftheLakeman’smonkeyjacket,ashewastuckingthecoatintohishammockforapillow.Twenty-fourhoursafter,histrickatthesilenthelm—nightothemanwhowasapttodozeoverthegravealwaysreadydugtotheseaman’shand—thatfatalhourwasthentocome;andinthefore-ordainingsoulofSteelkilt,thematewasalreadystarkandstretchedasacorpse,withhisforeheadcrushedin.

           "But,gentlemen,afoolsavedthewould-bemurdererfromthebloodydeedhehadplanned.Yetcompleterevengehehad,andwithoutbeingtheavenger.Forbyamysteriousfatality,Heavenitselfseemedtostepintotakeoutofhishandsintoitsownthedamningthinghewouldhavedone.

           "Itwasjustbetweendaybreakandsunriseofthemorningofthesecondday,whentheywerewashingdownthedecks,thatastupidTeneriffeman,drawingwaterinthemain-chains,allatonceshoutedout,‘Theresherolls!theresherolls!’Jesu,whatawhale!ItwasMobyDick.

           "’MobyDick!’criedDonSebastian;‘St.Dominic!Sirsailor,butdowhaleshavechristenings?WhomcallyouMobyDick?’

           "’Averywhite,andfamous,andmostdeadlyimmortalmonster,Don;—butthatwouldbetoolongastory.’

           "’How?how?’criedalltheyoungSpaniards,crowding.

           "’Nay,Dons,Dons—nay,nay!Icannotrehearsethatnow.Letmegetmoreintotheair,Sirs.

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